Monster
by Sophia Banks
Summary: "Everybody hates me...everybody." Well, almost everybody. (Heavily implied SamanthaxNathan AU set during Ep 4. of "LiS")


**I seriously just needed to post this before I changed my mind. Let me know what you think, or if anyone was ooc. ;)**

 **Monster-**

"Hey Nathan, sorry to um- barge in like this. But I was feeling guilty about what I said earlier and- ugh," Samantha pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. No, that was stupid. "I think I kind of overreacted and I think you _might_ have too, so-" her lips twisted into a grimace. There was no way he would accept her apology, even she didn't believe it! The young girl ascended the stairs, holding her breath when she reached the proper door. The boy's dormitories had always been off grounds for the shy young woman, not that she had many reasons to go there in the first place. It felt like a breach of privacy, _besides_ being against Blackwell's rules. Samantha knew for a fact that she was in the minority when it came to sneaking into the other buildings. All well. She was doing it now, wasn't she? Although not for the reason one might think.

Samantha poked her head through the crack between white door and frame, anxiously searching the quiet halls for any signs of life. No one. With innate sneaking abilities she'd learned from avoiding large crowds, the young woman crept past each student's room. The carpets were a bit musty smelling, but otherwise the same as in the girl's dorm. Samantha tried not to snort at the graffiti on the bathroom door and the blatant bullying displayed on the boy's room slates. She stopped when she found the slate she was looking for, revealing the occupant behind room number 111. " _The Prescott's rule this town"_.Yeesh, sometimes it wasn't hard to understand why Nathan was disliked by just about everyone. Samantha lifted her hand and tapped her knuckle against the smooth wooden surface, her heart beating unsteadily in her chest. When she didn't get a response, it occurred to her that Nathan might not even be in there! All that creeping would have been for nothing. Still, she knocked again. Silence. Samantha swallowed, prepared to turn around and make a hasty escape, when her ears caught a distinct sound coming from Nathan's room. She tugged at one of her sleeves, leaning towards the door to hear better. It was… whales?

Samantha's insides jumped, "Nathan?" she whispered, "Are you okay? I kind of want to talk to you." The dark haired girl lifted her hand and set it atop the metal handle, applying light pressure that turned out to actually be overkill. The door opened and Samantha stumbled in like a newborn calf just learning to walk, her eyes wide and surprised. Apparently the lock had been broken somehow! The room was dark and uninviting, with a display on one of the walls showing a cycle of Nathan's black and white photographs. It took Samantha a moment to orient herself, her gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar space. There was something undeniably _Nathan_ about his dorm, the BDSM picture on the wall to Samantha's right, the poster for one of his favorite shows offsetting it on another. The glow of his computer screen was almost blinding, showing off what was likely his E-mail page. The sound turned out to indeed be whale song. Samantha twisted the hem of her sleeve, unsure of what it meant.

Samantha was able to make out a shape in the gloom, small and insignificant against the large mattress. Nathan had curled himself into a ball on top of his bed, his blankets bunched up at his feet. Both of his hands dug into his dark hair and worked patterns on his scalp. Samantha blinked, feeling like a jerk trespassing on one of the few places he likely felt safe. But she needed to get her feelings out... to understand. She hugged herself, "N-Nathan?" He curled up tighter, his bony knees pressed against his chest. "Fuck off." The young woman shook her head, noting the rawness in his voice. Almost like he'd been crying… but, that wasn't possible was it? She had never seen Nathan cry, at least, nothing more than watery eyes and some sniffling. Samantha approached the bed cautiously, "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted yesterday," she persisted, tucking a lock of flat brown hair behind her ear. A solitary snort came from the crumpled body before her.

Samantha reached him and hesitated. Her legs pressed against the edge of the mattress, her foot landing on a book that turned out to be written by Doctor Bill. Yeah, that wasn't going to help. Like a cat she shifted onto his bed, perched on the end. "Nathan, I was worried about you. I thought- I thought maybe you hated me." Her voice shook. They'd been...friends, for so long. Nathan's body shuddered, "Don't say that. No one could ever hate you."

With a pained grunt, Nathan sat up.

Samantha's eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open. Nathan's nose and upper lip were pink and covered in dried blood, bruises coloring a good portion of his handsome face. The red splotches had begun to purple in the centers and swell which only added to the garrishness of it. One of his eyes couldn't open all the way. Nathan kept one arm tightly wrapped around his midsection. "Oh my God!" Samantha's eyes welled with tears. What had happened? Who would do that!? Everyone at Blackwell pretty much knew that you didn't touch Nathan Prescott. His family was too influential, _too rich_. Samantha raised a hand until it was an inch from his face. "Can I?" she asked in a gentle tone. Nathan's adams apple bobbed when he swallowed, a shallow nod accompanying it. Samantha was sure to be gentle, her fingertips just barely brushing against scarlett marks on his pale skin. He didn't react to her touch beyond the occasional wince, "You know I don't like being fondled," he raised both of his eyebrows suggestively. Samantha let out a small laugh, "Don't be so full of yourself. This isn't fondling Prescott, I'm just seeing how bad these bruises are." Despite her best intentions, Samantha's hand turned and she swept her knuckles lightly against his sharp cheekbone. Nathan almost never allowed her to get that close. Not anymore. She swiped a tear away from her own face with one finger, "D-do you have any baby wipes or paper towel? You should get cleaned up," she settled her fists between her thighs. Nathan nodded again, "Top drawer," he gestured with his free arm to his desk.

Samantha went to retrieve the cleaning implements and stopped when she caught sight of a framed photograph. Sean Prescott sitting on stone steps, his hair more brown than grey and his lenses dark. He looked far too happy to be sitting next to a crying child. She plucked the picture from its spot on Nathan's desk. He was wearing a sailor suit. Wow. Maybe she could use that for blackmail later? Shaking away thoughts of future misdeeds (that really, she would never do) on her part, the young woman replaced the photo and pulled open one of the drawers to Nathan's desk. There was a large collection of pencils, worn down to stubs and chewed thoroughly. Beside those, a collection of crumpled drawings, dark with excessive graphite. She pushed those aside and found a small packet of sanitizing wipes which she took. Samantha turned (pointedly ignoring the large collection of prescriptions sitting on the floor) and approached her friend once again. Nathan's eyes had closed, listening to the soothing tones of the whale songs. Samantha was deeply curious to find out how long he'd been using them, but remained silent on the subject. It wasn't her place to ask. She slipped a wipe from its container and knelt down in front of him, poised to clean the bloody mess- only for him to snatch it from her grasp. "I'm not a child Myers, shit," he hissed.

The two remained in relative silence, Samantha still knelt awkwardly in front of her friend. Or was he more than a friend? They used to be, until Nathan's place at Blackwell began to change. When he went from the bullied misunderstood rich kid, to the one doing the bullying. Samantha's place in life had remained much the same, the shy girl that everyone ignored. The only one that had shown any signs of truly understanding had been Nathan. The two misfits, treated like human beings by each other rather than objects to be used and thrown away. The youngest Prescott appeared to have cleared up most of the mess, squeezing the dark stained wipe in his hands. He picked at it listlessly with his fingertips, "Do you.." his gaze met hers, watery and uncertain, "Do you think I'm a monster?" After all her years in Arcadia Bay, with Kate Marsh nearly jumping off a roof and Chloe Price showing up at Blackwell again- Samantha thought for sure that the world had run out of surprises for her. How wrong she was. "What?" Her brow furrowed. Nathan made a noise that sounded rather like a giraffe being strangled, "Don't play dumb. You know what I meant. Everyone in this shithole town hates me," his fingernails dug deep into the flesh of the opposite hand, hard enough to leave a mark. A stray tear finally freed itself and left a trail down the curves of his face. Samantha shook her head, "I don't hate you!"

"Why?"

Samantha blinked, taken aback by such a simple question. Why did she love Nathan Prescott? Er, that is, why didn't she hate him? With all that had happened with Nathan, it was hard to look past his enormous flaws and find the gem hidden beneath. But then, Samantha found her voice. "Well, I guess it's because… you're artistic and clever. You make me laugh and despite all of the shit you put me through I always know that you'll be there for me when I really need you," the words poured easily from her lips, it felt refreshing to let her feelings out for once even if they were a bit silly to her. Nathan's mouth formed a half frown, "Nice. You get that from one of those vampire books?" The note of humor in his voice betrayed his expression. The young woman grinned. She stood up and slipped into place beside him, placing one hand on his, "Nah, that was all my original work." Nathan shook his head, "You're going to be a great fiction writer," he snorted, which made a terrible sound and clearly hurt him. Slim legs shot forward, Nathan's shoes touching the floor and the toes clicking together. "So, you wanna hear what I like about you?" he leaned his shoulder against hers for only a second. Samantha blushed, "Not really." How embarrassing would that be? Nathan twined his fingers with hers, "You don't actually get a say Myers. So, I like you because you're unabashedly, completely, perfectly _you_ ," he looked up at the ceiling. Samantha's whole face became bright red, though the darkness of the room hid it well, "And you said mine was cheesy." Nathan shrugged one shoulder, "Honesty is always cheesy. Besides, I probably have a concussion."

"You do not!" Samantha scoffed, swatting him. Nathan scooted away from her, "Whatthefuckever, I'm in pain, close enough!" he laughed, a genuine laugh. God how she missed that sound!

It was unfortunate, that the moment had to end at some point. Samantha was not supposed to be in the boy's dormitory, and if she stayed any longer she would likely risk being caught. She squeezed Nathan's hand once before she stood, "Are you going to be alright?" She wasn't just talking about his injuries. Nathan had been "off" for a long time, no matter how much support he got from her and Victoria. His thin lips pursed, "Fine," he supplied, tilting his head. She turned to leave, hesitating a moment to take in the fake diploma taped to the wall. It was difficult leaving him, knowing that so many parts of his world were broken. Drug addiction, the stupid Vortex Club, his father's cruelty and general lake of caring, the anxiety and anger issues that made control nearly impossible for him. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. It would be alright. It had to. Nathan wasn't completely lost, she'd made him laugh after all. Samantha had just begun to turn the broken door handle.

* * *

She started to leave him. Nathan's lungs seemed to cease operations, tension building inside of him. He needed to tell her...something. Anything! Samantha Myers deserved so much more than what happened to poor Rachel Amber. Oh Rachel... The ball of self loathing grew several sizes within his stomach, "Samantha!" he stopped her with a shout he'd intended to make a whisper. She turned to him with a puzzled expression on her plain, but beautiful face. Nathan worked his fingers through his hair. There was no way he could fix all of his mistakes, and there was no way he could ever deserve her. But that didn't mean he couldn't keep her safe. "Stay- stay away from Mark Jefferson." The name felt like poison in his mouth. Mark Jefferson had meant so much to him, a second father, someone who could be proud of Nathan and treat him like more than just a puppet! But that was what he was, wasn't it? Nathan fought back more embarrassing tears, "Can you do that for me?" Samantha rubbed one of her blue sweater sleeves, "I guess. I mean, I don't take photography so it shouldn't be too hard." It was to her credit that she didn't ask why he was telling her to avoid the other man. Nathan's insides loosened slightly, "Good."

 **Fin.**


End file.
